Poor Melbourne-born Scotto hates the heat and lack of rain here in North Queensland.

“Ravenswood’s a ghost town,” I lectured Scotto in the car on the way. “It used to have a population of about 4500 back in the 1890s because of the gold rush but now only a couple of hundred people live there. I’ve heard there’s even a haunted pub!

Just don’t blink or you actually will miss it,” I warned as we approached the tiny hamlet.

Our first stop was the historic cemetery.

Ravenswood Cemetery

Our shoes crackled across the brittle, dried out grass and we pondered over the sad gravestones of little children and young women who’d probably died in childbirth back in the 1800s.

“Why are there so many little kids’ graves?” asked Scotto.

“Diphtheria, Typhoid… they didn’t have antibiotics back then,” I answered feeling a little melancholy.

Grave at Ravenswood Cemetery

We both suddenly jumped in fright as the shutter on Scotto’s camera began automatically firing over and over.

“That’s weird…” he stared at me with a pale face. “Why’s it doing that?”

"Maybe something wants to be seen?" I answered with false bravado.

What the F-f-f-f-f!

The temperature when we climbed back in the car was close to 37 degrees and there was not a cloud in the sky.

We had a quick look around the museum.

“Where are you two from?” probed the elderly woman at the door when she overheard Pinky jokingly whinging about the extortionate two dollar admission fee.

“I’ve lived here all my life,” she continued with a toothless sneer. “People are shocked when I tell them that... I can think of worse places to live.”

“I can’t…” I thought, as I feigned interest in the three glass cabinets containing boring old rubbish from the nineteenth century.

“Don’t forget to have a look at the old jail out the back,” the woman called out when she noticed Scotto and Pinky attempting to slither out the door unnoticed.

Ravenswood Museum

I think they must have forgotten about someone...

“Time for a beer!” announced Scotto.

Railway Hotel Ravenswood

The Railway Hotel (circa 1890 and one of only two remaining hotels) was straight across the road and as we walked in to the establishment the local bar flies stared at our city slicker attire with barely concealed derision (no they didn’t... but it would have been funny if they had).

We ordered counter lunches whilst three poodles, a couple of tiny terrier pups and a biggish mongrel had a full on barney around the bar, barking, growling and nipping each other.

The beer was great; ice cold and refreshing, the fish and chips delicious.

Pub Lunch

“We can go and have a look at the old mine after lunch,” I suggested.

Open cut mine Ravenswood

We did. There’s nothing spookier than an abandoned mine. The hike up to the lookout had a steep ascent with a 10 degree gradient, so in the searing heat our thirst had re-established itself and it was time for another beer.

“I think this is the haunted one,” I informed Scotto as we pulled up outside the Imperial Hotel.

A table of locals out the front of the pub, unashamedly gawked at the Batmobile as Scotto (showing off) did a powerslide in the gravel as we pulled up.

“They’re staring at your car!” I commented. “Probably never seen a car like this in these here parts.”

Scotto was thrilled at the attention and disembarked from the Batmobile feeling like a superstar… right up until he fell in a hole and nearly went ass up.

The entire table erupted in loud guffaws and watched us hobbling across the road in embarrassment.

“Have a nice trip?” chortled the matriarch of the group.

“Yeah, I’ll be back in the fall,” muttered a sheepish Scotto.

Bar in Ravenswood Hotel

Behind the bar stood a tiny, attractive blonde girl; she was clearly a backpacker by the sound of her Scandinavian accent.

She stood out like a dog’s hind leg (sic) against the back drop, with her golden hair and white smile. "How the hell did a backpacker have the misfortune of winding up here?" I wondered.

We drank our beers and Scotto insisted, quite passionately, on returning the empty glasses back to the bar.

I suspected it was more to do with the stunning blonde barmaid inside, rather than his impeccably good manners.

“Let me take them back…” I suggested.

“No. I’ll do it,” he replied (quite firmly).

“Nice car, yah!” I heard the Nordic goddess trill to my husband, who stood with an irritatingly silly grin on his face.

We left the pub and decided we’d seen enough for one day even if we hadn’t espied any ghosts as such.

“Did you have a nice day?” asked the shop keeper at the antiquated post office/store we called into to get water for the journey back.

“Yes thanks,” Pinky mused. “We saw the museum and the mine, had a lovely lunch at the Railway Hotel and a final roadie at the Imperial just before.”

The shop keeper stared at me, his pupils dilating slightly, his face blanching.

“The Imperial Hotel has been boarded up for the last thirty years,” he choked, “ever since that young, Swedish backpacker was murdered by a jealous miner’s wife.”

Sunday, December 29, 2013

“Come over for a feed of curry on Boxing Day!” my friend Dolly, texted me before Christmas.

I love going to Dolly’s place with its fully air-conditioned confines, tasteful décor and guaranteed good company. Add the fact she’s an exceptional cook and it goes to say I was greatly looking forward to the outing.

Apart from Dolly gifting me with another snow globe from her recent trip to Italy, there was another surprise in store for Pinky.

This lot!

Michael, Madeleine, Pinky, Harriet, Ebony.

Oh, to be young, beautiful, talented and with the entire world and its opportunities spread out before you.

Michael, who was one of Pinky’s favourite speech and drama students many years ago, is now a lawyer in the big smoke but still manages to perform when he has time.

Ebony was in our theatre company’s first production and has been over in England treading the boards and wowing audiences with her exceptional singing voice.

I, Pinky, claim full credit for all of their success.

Jokes… but it was wonderful to hear how these brilliant kids have been going in their lives and rehashing fond memories with them.

Naturally, they had to pose “Eisteddfod” style for me.

A big bonus for Pinky was the fact that the girls had their hotty boyfriends with them!

EYE CANDY!!!

Madeleine and her (Actor/Writer/Director/Producer) fiancé, Dan Mulvihill (who was on Home and Away girls!!!) have created Mad Dan Productions which specialises in film, TV and web based entertainment concepts.

Here’s the Facebook Link if you want to check it out! It’s very funny, clever and innovative… just up my alley.

Now, Scotto may have had to drag me out of the gathering after I’d imbibed in one too many Chardys and kept telling Dan how spunky he was and how if I was thirty years younger Madeleine would have to watch out… I don’t quite remember.

But… it was an excellent afternoon.

"Can you get this woman away from me Madeleine...please?"

“How did you manage to make all these fantastic curries after you did Christmas lunch yesterday?” I asked the hostess with the mostest Dolly, in awestruck admiration.

Saturday, December 28, 2013

Who was I kidding when I said I wouldn’t write a post between December 22 and December 31? Those days are the best days of the year for Poinker shenanigans.

I was going to save it all up and condense it all into one post but I don’t think I can…

Scotto bought me a personalised notebook to write down all my observations in!

Consequently, today’s post will regale you with the uncouth and hugely censored snippets of the Poinker’s Christmas Day.

Back when the kids were little they would awaken at the crack of dawn and pester us to get out of bed so they could rip into the plethora of shiny presents under the tree. Nowadays we’re woken up by Pablo the Chihuahua’s tongue spiralling up our nostrils at six am. After dragging ourselves up and downing a couple of coffees we're obliged to ‘let the dogs out’ onto the slumbering teenagers ensconced snuggly amongst doonas in their Arctic-temperature bedrooms.

It was eleven o’clock in the morning by the time everyone was seated, sipping champagne and orange juice and eating chocolate and stone fruit.

Instead of the mysteriously wrapped gifts of yesteryear, each Poinker child (including Hagar’s girlfriend, Meggles) was handed an envelope containing a couple of gift vouchers and cold, hard cash.

Before you judge me I must point out I put A LOT of effort into selecting appropriate gift vouchers. Remember back in September when all five of my kids forgot it was my birthday and gave me NOTHING? Well this time they managed to make some sort of effort.

Except for one… the ‘One’ with the most money in his stash.

“Here Mum…” the ‘One’ carelessly grabbed a fifty dollar note out of his wallet. “Do you have change for a fifty? I’d like to give you forty dollars to put in your online betting account.”

Look... I do have an online betting account but I've probably used it twice in the last two years and besides… I didn’t feel money for my ‘betting account’ was a very thoughtful gift to offer in the true spirit of Christmas.

“Put your money away!” I snapped at the ‘One’. Now I know why the ‘One’ has such a large bank account.

We were all packed up to head over to my sister Sam’s for Christmas lunch. Sam lives a fifteen minute walk away from us but it was arranged that Jonah (who doesn’t really drink much) would drive the ‘One’s’ car over with the esky and take us as well.

Unfortunately, the ‘One’ decided to take off in the car by himself and leave the rest of us stranded by the side of the road mandating a hot, muggy walk over to Sam’s in the midday, North Queensland sun.

At this point Pinky was beginning to feel slightly pissed off with the ‘One’ even though it WAS Christmas day and you’re not really supposed to have those strong, murderous emotions gurgling away inside.

The kids began walking ahead and by the time Scotto and I huffed and puffed our way through Sam’s front door, the ‘One’ had already stirred up a vitriolic argument with eighteen year old Padraic by taunting him about his recent haircut.

The ‘One’ continued his merciless carry on until Padraic, feisty character that he is, began to threaten the ‘One’ with a belt in the head.

Twenty year old Hagar, for some inexplicable reason, unwisely put his two bits worth in.

“Do you want a rassel?” goaded Padraic. “C’mon Hagar… I bet I could beat you in a rassel.”

This aggressive badgering went on for another miserable ten minutes until finally Hagar, steam emanating out of his earholes, stood up and nobly accepted the challenge.

The Jean-Claude Van Damme action moved over to the grass out of view and while Lulu and Jonah went to document the ‘rassling match’ on their iPhones, Pinky sat gripping her wine glass, eyes clenched shut and waiting for the police and ambulance sirens to arrive screaming down the street.

The boys both returned to the table panting, sweaty and grass stained after only a few minutes.

Padraic sported a nasty grass burn on the side of his face but he’d calmed down having been put in his place by a body plant by the much larger Hagar.

But still the relentless ‘One’ continued to annoy most of the gathering with his misappropriated sense of humour.

“When’s a gnome not a gnome?” he read boisterously from a Christmas Cracker joke.

Saturday, December 21, 2013

There's a guy (at least I assume it's a guy) who has a Facebook page called GOD. It's not blasphemous at all, just a bit of fun.

Occasionally he asks his followers to ask him questions... any question they like. I sifted through the 1500 or so questions and found a few you may find amusing.

Dear God,

Where is all my bacon? I had 5 packs in the fridge yesterday, and now there is only one.

Do you do Secret Santa in heaven?

Adam and Eve - did they have belly buttons? And if they are made in Your image - do you have a belly button?

Can you tell me which of my cats ate my snore blocker ear plugs? Or will I have to wait?

Do you have feet?

Boxers or briefs?

When will a next dragonball series start? And will it be as good as dragonball z?

Why did you allow the red - wedding to happen on game of thrones?! WHYYYY?!?

Do you prefer star wars or star trek?

Is there wifi in hell and if so would you happen to have the password?

Is it true that "you can't take it with you when you go" and is this in any way related to the fact that "if you don't use it, you lose it"?

If you could keep just one God power, what would it be and why?

Who played your favorite Jesus in a film?

Dear God, What did the fox say?

If rain is your tears, what about snow and hail?

God, why did you let dinosaurs miss the Ark? And while we are on the subject, why did creepy crawly things like black widow spiders and fire ants, make that trip?

I invited friends to go out for dinner last week, I got very annoyed, cause my friends wanted to change my plans, the venue, the day and time. Do you feel the same way when people pray to change your Divine Plan?

God. If I swallow gum does it actually stay with me for 7 years?

God: How do I know if my pants tight "hot" or just too tight? I have a smoken rear, but, to be honest a bit of a muffin top too.

God, when you see mortals doing something truly evil or stupid why not strike them with a lighting bolt? Not enough to kill them mind you, but just painful enough as if to say "I'm watching you".

Im thinking of a number 1-10 what Is it?

Could "Under the Dome" become real one day? Who would you like to see end up behind the dome, and would you interfere?

Thursday, December 19, 2013

The Christmas tradition was launched in 2005 and rapidly snowballed into a multi-million dollar franchise: year-over-year growth has averaged 149%, sales hit $16.6 million in 2011 and I can’t find figures beyond that but I’d bet a Christmas bauble they’re still doing quite well.

In 2005 my youngest, Lulu, was nine years old and far too worldly to accept the whimsical tale of a stuffed goblin who was sent as a spy from Santa to deem whether or not she’d been naughty or nice… so I gave the purchase of said festive mole a big miss.

Millions of other mothers out there didn’t apparently.

I, however, have had a brilliant idea!

Instead of a mere Elf on the Shelf, I’ve created a variety of characters more suitable for the older kids.

One complaint from mothers worldwide is that E.O.T.S. has to be moved around the house each night after the kids have gone nighty-nights. Unfortunately, just as in the case of the tooth fairy, after one too many spicy, mulled wines Mums were forgetting to move the little critters leading to suspicion and doubt as to the Elf’s credibility.

My specially designed Santa secret agents come in sets of twelve so won’t have to be moved much at all. Most areas of the house will be covered and not only that, will contain in-built camcorders!

You'll have black and white evidence about who's nicking the alcohol, coming home late or doing their chores around the house!You won’t miss a THING your teenagers get up to!

Wednesday, December 18, 2013

Way back in January I wrote a story about a childrens’ theatre group I once worked with here in...this silly story

I resigned from the group when I began working full time as a primary teacher but the reigns were adeptly assumed by one of our younger directors, Todd.

Well that was nine years ago and since then Todd has taken the group to a dizzying new level.

Where once the dramatic performances were based on the extremely cheesy and over-the-top style embraced by the likes of, ooh… let’s say Benny Hill, the group now exudes a distinctly contemporised, Tim Burtonesque flavour under the creative, original talents of hipster Todd and his crew (is ‘hipster’ a compliment? I hope so. See how un-withit I am).

Today, Scotto and I took my nephew Heinrich and Petal to see Props Youth Theatre’s “Totally Awesome Christmas Show” and I can assure you, it was… well totally awesome. From ages five years to about seventeen, the accomplished young actors were focussed, energetic, vibrant and entertaining.

The first half of the show delivered an alternative version of the Wizard of Ozand the second half, a lively, slightly bizarre depiction of Alice in Wonderland complete with the funniest Tweedle-dum and Tweedle-dee I’ve seen, EVER!

The only annoyance about the day was the stupid, self-destructive parking laws the city council has instigated in the city. You can only pay for two hours at a time but then you can’t simply go and top up the meter. Oh no… you have to move the bloody car because the vulture-like parking officers put chalk marks on the tyres.

For years our incompetent council has been desperately trying to coerce people back into a business-depleted and deserted city centre.

I never bother shopping in the city because firstly, there are no shops, and secondly, there is no free parking. I would venture into the tumbleweed infested, malignantly, hot city centre, however, to go to the movies or watch a theatre production but not if I’m going to be forced to hike it back to my car at interval (or half way through a movie) to move my damn car.Despite this idiocy, it was a trip down memory lane watching what must be the twelfth installment of the

Totally Awesome Christmas Show.

“I wish I could be in something like that!” was Petal’s review.

“That’s the first time I’ve ever really listened to the story of the Wizard of Oz,” was Heinrich’s stoic reaction.

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